The Tiger Spirit
by Flutepiccy
Summary: Years before the Grave Escape, El Tigre visits a descendant... and bestows a fate-altering gift.


**Well, I haven't written for this fandom in a while, and I've never posted anything for it. I clearly don't own Mr. Gutierrez's characters or the wonderful world they come from.**

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November 2: In the Land of the Dead, a new morning paralleled the Land of the Living's bright weather. El Tigre glanced around his old shack, destroyed by the use of the Ancient Tiger Spirit. Thanks to the new El Tigre, though, he wouldn't have been using it anyway. He would try to spend more time with his family. It was in part his separation from others drove him mad in the first place. (He wished he'd said something about that to the new El Tigre.) He'd probably figure it out. Manny was an amazing kid; he was destined for greatness far longer than he'd owned the belt.

El Tigre pulled up a lop-sided, singed chair to a blackened spool table— the only parts of the shack left whole by the Ancient Tiger Spirit. A wide smile washed over his face as he remembered the first time he met the new Tigre. Not when he had given him the belt, but a brief moment, long before that.

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Justice Jaguar had first heard of the boy's birth from his sister. He then told Golden Leon, who passed the information along to the Mighty Cheetar, who then told Dark Leopard; but no one told El Tigre. At least, no one mentioned it until the next Dia de los Muertos. An unfortunate oversight. El Tigre was minding his own business at the Land of the Dead's lone saloon, just eavesdropping on his family, when Justice Jaguar mentioned seeing pictures of the boy's first birthday hanging on the wall.

Then the arguments began: would the new Rivera be a hero or a villain? Was it too early to tell? Each side claimed him for their own. Something about the news of this boy moved him. All this pointless arguing. But more than pity for the boy's situation, he felt an unavoidable curiosity bubble to the surface of his mind. El Tigre looked up at the clock on the saloon's wall. There were a few hours of the day left. He still had time.

The Rivera household was dark and quiet; El Tigre assumed everyone was asleep. Not that they'd see him sneaking in anyways. In the entry hall, he passed the pictures Justice Jaguar mentioned earlier, alongside pictures of White Pantera and Puma Loco. Underneath the boy's pictures, someone had written the caption, "Manny's first birthday." El Tigre gave the pictures a half-smile: he was equally proud of both the heroic and the evil descendants. Beneath the pictures stood the small Dia de los Muertos shrine. There wasn't any food left, but El Tigre admitted that it was his fault for being so late.

Before El Tigre could ponder the pictures too closely, he heard a small… outburst. It wasn't quite a cry, and it wasn't quite a laugh. It was just enough to get El Tigre's attention. The hero (or villain) glanced down the hallway and followed the soft sound. His own pale blue glow illuminated his path, though no one else could have noticed it.

At the end of the hallway, El Tigre found the youngest Rivera's room. It was filled with lovingly given toys and posters little boys were sure to adore. A little grey machine sent ambient rain noses floating through the room.

The boy– Manny, El Tigre corrected himself–stood at the edge of his crib, gripping the painted white wood bars, apparent excitement about to send him jumping out of his baby-blue onesie. El Tigre turned sharply and froze. He glanced down the hallway anxiously, wondering if Manny's parents was coming. El Tigre stood there for two entire minutes. Then something amazing happened.

Manny started giggling. El Tigre turned back to the boy. The cry had been for _him_ , the toddler had been staring at _him_ , that laugh was for _him_. Manny could see him.

With more caution than he had ever exercised before, El Tigre shifted towards Manny's crib. He reached the edge of it; his gaze met Manny's smiling eyes. The boy's grin was infectious, and soon he, too wore a warmer smile than he had in centuries.

He hoped that out of everything he had experienced and forgotten, he would remember this. El Tigre had only met one other Rivera, his son, as a child. All the others were stories told to him by his descendants. But this child, a grandson separated by so many "greats" that he didn't even want to count, felt as dear to him as Dark Leopard did.

It was a shame he seemed destined to have a side chosen for him.

El Tigre suddenly had an idea. He cupped his hands, whispered a nearly unintelligible phrase, and hoped his powers would work. At the end of the phrase, a small, green tiger cub appeared in his hands. The tiny animal spirit mewed and nuzzled the hands of its creator. Manny laughed and clapped from the other side of the crib.

The Tiger Spirit pawed the edge of the crib. Now El Tigre understood why he felt compelled to visit the Rivera home. He leaned closer to his descendant and held the tiger out to him. The tiger cub licked Manny's face before gleefully floating around him. He stopped at the child's side, and with a nod to El Tigre, disappeared. El Tigre's stare flitted between his descendant's smiling face and the place where the tiger was just sitting. He had found the new El Tigre.

Pride flooded every inch of El Tigre's being. Forget having a side chosen for him: every El Tigre was destined for greatness, and he was destined to carve out that greatness for himself. He could choose his side. He could break the pattern. But a small sliver of sadness gnawed at the first Tigre's mind. What if he couldn't choose? With this Tiger Spirit, Manny would always be at odds with himself— something El Tigre himself couldn't handle. Manny needed to be stronger than him. Fortunately, El Tigre also decided that the boy would never be alone. Both good and evil agreed that should Manny need help, help would come.

A grandfather clock rung out from the hallway. The first toll of midnight. Eleven more and he would be back in the Land of the Dead. El Tigre re-conjured the small tiger cub and left it sleeping next to the now-drowsy Manny. At the door, he looked back. Though the cub would disappear by morning, both slept peacefully. El Tigre's smile crept back onto his face as he left the Rivera home. Whether the child would end up good or evil, El Tigre loved him whole-heartedly.

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 **Thanks for checking it out, and as always, comments/ constructive criticisms are always welcomed!**

 **~Flutepiccy**


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